


All the rest is talk

by spellitwithyourpeas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellitwithyourpeas/pseuds/spellitwithyourpeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending aka smutty ending to the chapter "Lasts" (found in my fic "Figure 8").</p>
<p>There was more.<br/>She was weary of the emotion she couldn’t place until she realized that it was want.<br/>Desire.<br/>And she’d be lying if she said that didn’t make her already racing heart beat faster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the rest is talk

Winter and Spring passed quickly. Summer on the other hand was dragging on and Hell’s Kitchen truly burned with a heat that could only come from Hell itself. Karen felt smothered by it.

It was especially bad the week she lost her air conditioning, uttering a “You’ve got to be kidding me” under her breath when she’d walked into her apartment. She’d expected her apartment to be refreshingly cool.Instead she was met with thick warmth. And it wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Perfect.

This is what she got for staying in the apartment. The bullet holes were covered and painted over. But the memories lingered-the glass shattering, the weight of him, the fear.

Maybe it was a sign. 

Honestly, it was more that she was sick of moving.

Trouble followed her and her home. No point in getting a nice place to have it shot up again. Besides, her land lord begrudgingly took care of it. Karen Page may not have been a lawyer, but her legal familiarity made him weary of trying to push the costs on her.

Plus, the fact that she’d been associated with The Punisher didn’t hurt.

But the link seemed to be wearing off as time passed. He’d made his grand entrance that night, started rustling bushes, and followed whatever escaped promptly out of town. Chicago she thought.

To Ellison’s surprise, she wasn’t keeping as close of tabs on his current movements, rather she was locked on his past. Kandahar had been occupying her spare time-even took some weekend trips on her days off to follow some leads. And so she sorted through documents, practically worthless with all the redaction’s-practically.

Karen was good at filling in the blank spaces.

She shuffled through pages upon pages in the apartment. This wasn’t the kind of work done in coffee shops and she had too many random visitors in the office. She didn’t want to explain herself.

Yeah, Ellison, maybe she still is keeping tabs.

So home it was- in a tank and shorts with droplets of sweat trailing down her neck as she glanced through the documents.

Frank had been brutally honest with her except for their last exchange in the woods. He’d shut down and shut her out when all the pieces were so close to falling in place.

Karen pleaded with him, desperately, _“Tell me the truth. Tell me for Maria. Tell me for Lisa. Tell me for Frank Jr._

Everything she said was rushed. The more Schoonover taunted the more she felt her hold on him slipping. He’d held his breath and avoided her gaze.

_“But if you kill him you will never know”._

Frank had looked up abruptly, let out a breath, and then dragged Schoonover away.

It all came crashing down and it hurt.  

_“You do this and you are the monster that they say you are.”_

It wasn’t about the physical act of violence. She knew what he was capable of. Karen understood fully well the desire to kill the person that took everything from you. To try and regain the power stolen from you in one moment.

It was the conversation in the prison that haunted her, the way he asked her, _“What if I find these men who did that to my family, what if… what if nothing changes? What if this is just me now?_

_“Then don’t you deserve to know that too?”_

That’s why she’d fought so vehemently. “ _But if you kill him you will never know”._

That bullet through his skull did damage. She never forgot that. He wasn’t whole. But would anything have changed if he hadn’t pulled the trigger? He’d still have the memories. Still be in that heightened state. Could he really have let Schoonover live?

Her questions didn’t matter really. The trigger had been pulled months ago, but try as she might-the questions were endless.

Not today though. Thoughts of Kandahar were put aside. In a separate pile on her kitchen table. Today was work.

Karen was about to grab another cup of coffee when she heard the brush of boots outside her door. She stepped quietly to grab her gun, waiting for a knock that never came.

“Who is it?” She called out, leaning against the door frame.

“Frank.” It was quiet, but unmistakably him.

Her eyes widened as she undid the chain and opened the door, gun still gripped in her other hand.He hadn’t changed. Face still carrying faded bruises. Eyes dark. Mouth sternly set. Karen opened the door wider and his eyes darted to the .380.

“What the hell are you doing here Frank?” Her voice was hard and cold.

He pointed to the mess on her kitchen table and he stepped passed her into the apartment, “Maybe I should ask you the same thing?”.

Anger stirred in her. She hadn’t asked him in. He may not have been dressed in his Punisher gear, but his current composure was one of intimidation. She damn well didn’t appreciate that. Not in her home.

Even so, Karen had the sense that he was holding back. She felt like she was dancing around a live wire.

She backed up unconsciously. Karen followed his gaze, about to speak before he continued.

“Thought I was dead to you, huh?” His tone was low and controlled. She almost shivered, as she eyed the finger at his side that tapped restlessly.

“Then there I am, following up on some old members of my squad and I overhear about a pretty blonde trying to dig up shit from Kandahar.”

Karen huffed as she set the gun back on her dresser before turning to him, her eyes narrowing at the man looming in her kitchen, “Oh, I’m sorry Frank. I didn’t know I needed your permission.” It was juvenile, but she was fed up with the condescension.

His cool demeanor broke.

“What the hell are you expecting huh? You think whatever you find will help you understand me hmm? Bullshit. I know who I am. I don’t need to be understood.” He shook his head, “Can’t let the fucking past lie.”

She stood her ground, bitterness brewing to the surface, “Yeah, well-I’m not very good at that. I guess I felt like I needed to play catch up after that night.”

“That right? Well you shouldn’t. Why don’t you back the fuck off and leave me in peace.” He was breathing heavy.

Karen listened silently, leaning against the kitchen counter. His words stung, but her retort was quiet.

“Are you at peace Frank?” If the comment affected him the only hint was the slight clench of his jaw. “Did killing him help?” 

Frank didn’t answer.

You know I wouldn’t have judged you for Kandahar and I won’t when I find out what happened, but everything…. everything we worked for and you just-,” she fought to find the words.

Frank interrupted, “He killed my family. And you expected me to sit there and have a little chat? Fuck, Karen-he deserved to die.”

“Yeah? And how did you feel after pulling the trigger? You get your peace? Or do you still feel empty?” She spoke the words desperately, trying to stifle down old memories. All seven shots worth.

“It felt pretty damn good actually.” He uttered it with a low growl.

With her arms crossed, she shook her head and bit her lip. That same hollowness from that night was returning. 

“You know you’re taking all this pretty goddamn personal.” He said the next words with genuine curiosity. “What happened to you?

She inhaled, sharply. “What?”

“Something happened right?” The words were cold. And her breathing quickened under his stare.

He continued, voice gruff and low, wavering in control. “Yeah, something did. Maybe you’re trying to fix yourself huh? Or maybe just bury it all down with that” He gestured at the folders on the table. His gaze was scrutinizing and she wouldn’t meet it. Frank scowled. “Looks like we both have secrets.”

The words were caught in her throat. She wanted to hurt him. Like he hurt her. Karen knew he’d never physically touch her, but his words were like a slap to her face. Biting and resonating.

“Stay away from Kandahar-that’s all I came to say. Get on with your life. Stay out of mine.” He’d slipped back to the quiet intensity.

And just like that, he left. Slamming the door his wake.

She jumped.

That was the second time he’d slammed a door in her face. The second and the last.

Karen ran out after him, catching him in the stairwell. His face lit with shock as she pushed him into the corner.

“That’s the last fucking time you slam a door in my face.” She hissed. “You don’t want my help. Fine. But I’m not going to stop ok? You were involved in some heavy shit? Welcome to the goddamn club. You want to go on with your crusade? Fine. But don’t ask me to stop mine”

His eyes darted over her form, taking in her expression of anger, the clenched fists at her side, nails digging deep into her palm and the her the way her chest heaved. A drop of sweat trailing below her tank top.

In the few seconds of silence, Karen made her own assessment. Frank was rooted in place. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw a mix of anger and admiration in his eyes. The smallest hint of a smirk, the intense focus of his gaze, and the rapid movement of his trigger finger. 

There was more.

She was weary of the emotion she couldn’t place until she realized that it was want.

Desire.

And she’d be lying if she said that didn’t make her already racing heart beat faster.

The stillness in him broke as she took a step closer.The kiss wasn’t gentle. That was fine by her.

Gone was the nervous flutter, his hand curled at the base of her neck, thumb brushing over her pulse. Karen pressed closer to him as his grip on her waist tightened. Her words were clipped,“Upstairs. Now.”

Frank led her back up the stairs to her apartment, kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. Karen backed up until her back hit the kitchen counter. Her eyes dark with anticipation.

He paused a few feet away, the low rumble sending shivers down her spine. “We do this? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know Frank. One and done. Now are you going to give me a lecture or are you going to fuck me?” Her tone was challenging. She saw the quick clench of his jaw and smirked as he crossed the short distance between them.

Karen couldn’t help but bite her lip when he gave her hard look. “That what you want?” She gasped when she felt him unbutton her shorts, dipping a hand underneath the thin fabric before they travelled down. Her eyelids fluttered at his touch and she let her head fall back against the cabinets as two fingers start to stroke her.

Her answer is a moan, “Yes.”

It'd be quick. Hard and fast. He’d probably leave by the time she came out of the bathroom after.

Makes it easy right? Karen doesn’t ask the question. His answer is already implied.

Her legs start to shake as the curling tension builds in her. Frank watches every sweet expression. Hears every breathy sigh. Before she can come, he removes his hand and spins her around. Her hips hit the counter. She expects to see a bruise later. “Asshole.”

It’s a weak insult, but her mind is muddied, her body still teetering on the edge of orgasm.

The insult is also familiar to them both. Yeah, You got that right.

They’re flush against each other, she could feel him and she let out an involuntary moan at the thought of him inside her.

His breath on her neck, and the touch of his lips, and then his tongue. It was like some fever dream. The heat. The fight. Making them dizzy.

When his hands returned to her waist, they dragged her shorts and underwear down. She shivered at the contact. The sound of his belt being unbuckled brought her out of her daze.

Turning back around she quietly muttered, “Fuck.”

Frank felt her tense and took a step back, mistaking her sigh for one of regret. “Hey-,”

But she only leaned away from him, grabbing for her purse. Karen glanced up at him as she rifled through searching for the small gold package. They could pretend all they want, but she didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes. She wouldn’t be doing this if he was completely heartless.

Fingers grasped the edge of the wrapping as she pulled it out and showed him. “Condom.”

“Right.”

Karen pushed herself up onto the counter. Her thighs sticking to the laminate counter. Frank slowly stepped back in close to her. Setting the package next to her, she reached to finish loosening his belt, his hand settled over hers, “Karen.” It was quiet and low. Sad and lost. She understood.

She stopped her work on his belt, glancing up she saw that his anger had faded, as had hers.

“Hey.” She tilted his chin up, so he’d meet her gaze. “You just tell me and we stop ok? I’ll get dressed, we can go get coffee or you can walk out the door and never see me again.” She lets her hand fall back to her side. “You annoy me so goddamn much and these past few months have been quieter without you but-,” She swallowed thickly, “I don’t want you to go.” The ache she felt wasn’t just residual from their previous moment of intimacy.

Frank nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I could just fuck you and leave and I can’t. Won’t. Won’t do that. Not to you. You deserve better.”

Karen tapped the package against the counter, nervous. “So is that just a no to sex or no to leaving?”

“Leaving.”

She looked up in surprise.

If she wasn’t so caught up in the moment, Karen would be embarrassed. Her shorts and underwear were halfway down her legs and she’d just had a conversation with Frank Castle half naked.

Not that he seemed to mind.

He pushed the said garments down her legs till they fell to the floor. Trailing his hands up her legs, he gave a small smile when he wrapped his hands around her thighs and picked her up, settling into one of the chairs around her small kitchen table. His palms warm against her skin. They roamed, pushing up her shirt.

Karen took it off, throwing it aside and reached for Frank’s. His shirt joined hers.

She traced the scars first with her finger tips, lightly grazing over the indentations from the work of knives and bullets. Some fresh, others old.

Karen leaned down and lightly touched them with her lips, her hands resuming their interrupted work on his belt.

Frank exhaled slowly. This vulnerability was rare. He didn’t dwell on the implications.

Sitting up straight, he cupped a palm to her cheek as he kissed her, slowly and deeply. Karen lifted her hips as he slid his pants down, only breaking the kiss to tear open the condom wrapper with her teeth.

“Jesus Karen.” She smiled at his comment as she rolled the condom on before sinking down, inhaling sharply as she took him in. Frank waited, watching as she slowly started to rock her hips. Fuck.

Karen felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Only the sound of the chair creaking with their movement and heavy breaths mixed with quiet moans filled the small apartment. It was foolish, self-destruction. Wicked lust and longing. Two people no longer lost seeking vengeance in a violent city. Just losing themselves in each other.

She came first. Twice actually. With his hands splayed across her ribs, he pulled her closer as she shuddered. He followed soon after.

Breathing heavy, she slumped against his chest. Frank brushed her hair from her face.

“You ok?”

Karen hummed contently. “More than ok. You?”

“No complaints.” She laughed and sat up, enjoying the feeling of him inside her. “You going to be here when I come back?” Nodding towards the bathroom.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” She got up slowly and grabbed her shirt and shorts off the ground before walking into the small bathroom. Karen cleaned herself up and redressed, stopping to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, there was a light in her eyes, and her hair was messy.

She looked happy. She knew it wouldn’t last. But for now, she was.

When she went back into the kitchen, Frank was dressed and peering into the contents of a folder marked “Kandahar”. Karen paused before sitting down. He glanced up at her sudden stop. Clearing his throat, he murmured, “I’ll take you up on that coffee and we can sort through this.”

She was speechless. Frank sighed, “Look you’re not going to stop right?”

“Uh, no. No I’m not.”

He nodded, “So I’ll walk you through it if you stop chasing these guys. I know as much as them and I ain’t going to hurt you if you ask the right questions.”

“I’ll get working on that coffee.”They were quiet as they worked on their separate tasks. Karen, filling up the water and Frank sorting through the papers, revisiting the past.

Karen glanced over her shoulder, watching him briefly mutter to himself as he flipped through the sheets.

What a fucking day.

She joined him at the table, passing him a steaming mug. The heat didn’t bother him. He was used to it. They didn’t talk about everything that just passed between them. Some couples-she paused, they weren’t a couple....some people.

Some people cuddled after sex. Well, they just happened to pour over violent details of their past over coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats to you! You made it through my first attempt at this kind of content.  
> I was not planning at all to do this but you know what I feel like it was a good challenge. Haha breaking out of my comfort zone.
> 
> Title from What's the Use of Wondrin (the Amanda Palmer version kills me) ( [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lzek4sHZp-c) )


End file.
